A Work of Art by Melody Maysonet Page A

help my dad. “I’m not sure how this works,” I said. “I think I have enough money to get started. And I guess I have to meet with him? The lawyer, I mean.”
    â€œI’ll set up a consultation. But you do understand. It wouldn’t be you hiring the attorney. Your father would do the actual hiring.”
    â€œBut I’m the one with the money,” I said.
    â€œI understand, but you’d only be acting as your father’s agent. Would you like to set up a consultation?”
    â€œCan I see the lawyer today?”
    â€œOf course. How’s eleven o’clock?”
    â€œPerfect.”
    I almost smiled when I hung up. Finally, things were happening.
    â€¢ • •
    I stepped off the bus and checked my hand where I’d scribbled the lawyer’s address. Was I even in the right place? These were houses, not office buildings, and most of them looked rundown with their peeling paint and broken shutters. Then I saw a blue BMW parked in one of the driveways. That house had a fresh paint job, decorative stones lining the walkway, bushes shaped like perfect rectangles. Above the door was a plaque: The Law Offices of David A. Kaufmann & Associates .
    For a split second, I wanted to forget about the whole thing. Go to Paris and let my dad deal with his own problems. But I knew I couldn’t do that. Even if I hated this lawyer, I’d keep searching until I found someone else.
    Inside, the office looked empty, but I heard a copier going, and I smelled burned popcorn. I stepped up to the front desk and craned my neck to see around a bookshelf. A blonde woman in a gray pantsuit stood at the copier.
    â€œExcuse me,” I said.
    She looked up, smiling when she saw me. “Can I help you?”
    â€œI’m Tera Waters. I have an appointment?”
    â€œYes, we spoke on the phone. I’m Linda.” She pushed up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. “You’re a little early, but I think Ms. Gross can see you now.”
    She led me through a door to where a woman sat behind a big wooden desk, typing on her computer. She looked about my mom’s age and wore a navy blue pantsuit with a string of pearls around her neck. Her hair was up in a bun.
    Linda introduced us. “Ms. Gross, this is Tera Waters. Ms. Waters, this is Charlotte Gross, senior criminal defense attorney.”
    I shook her hand. She had a French manicure. She probably had her nails done every week.
    Linda left the room, and the lawyer pointed to one of the cushioned chairs that faced her desk. “Have a seat. May I call you Tera?”
    I nodded and sat, clenching my purse. Through the fake leather, I could feel my checkbook.
    â€œCan you tell me what happened?” she asked.
    I had to clear my throat to get the words out. “The police arrested my dad.”
    â€œAnd the charges? Did you hear why they arrested him?”
    My fingers ached from gripping my purse so hard. I didn’t want to say it, but I knew I had to. “For child pornography.”
    I waited for the shocked pause, the gasp. But she didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink.
    â€œBut I know he’s innocent,” I said.
    â€œAnd what makes you say that?”
    â€œThe police found a drawing, but I’m the one who did it, not him.”
    â€œA drawing? I don’t understand.”
    â€œHe’s an artist. We both are. I did a drawing of myself when I was a kid. I was just practicing—you know, drawing the nude form. But I guess it could be considered pornographic.”
    I checked her face, but all I saw was concern. “You were there when they searched the house?” she asked. “Did they have a warrant, or did someone let them in?”
    â€œThey had a warrant, but I let them in. I’m pretty sure my mom called them.”
    She made a note on her pad. “Did you see what they took?”
    â€œHis computer. My laptop. Some folders with a bunch of his